"The Diving Bell and the Butterfly"

"I decided to stop pitying myself. Other than my eye, two things aren't paralyzed, my imagination and my memory."

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, to put the matter quite bluntly, blew me away upon first viewing. The film is epic in its depiction of a life sequestered by the human body, a man who regains his humanity through his indomitable imagination, sardonic wit, and vast memory. And to top matters off, it was done in French to do justice to its source material (Jean-Dominique Bauby's Le Scaphandre et le Papillion).

A brief synopsis of the plot goes as follows: Jean-Dominique Bauby, the then-editor of French Elle in the mid-nineties, suffers a massive stroke, halting the movement of his fast-paced lifestyle. The film begins with Jean-Do's awakening from a coma three months after his "cerebrovascular accident." Julian Schnabel made the choice of filming good portions of The Diving Bell and the Butterfly from the perspective of Jean-Do, the lens of the camera blinking and blurring . . . a decision that effectively renders the world through the eyes of our protagonist. We are as confused as Jean-Do at the film's start, soon learning with Jean-Do that he is the victim of locked in syndrome - a condition where one's mental faculties all function perfectly, but where one's body is left paralyzed from head to toe. The only part of Jean-Do's body that can be moved is his left eyelid (his right eye is occluded in a particularly unnerving scene). As the film progresses, we learn that this eyelid is to become the one saving grace afforded our self-deprecating hero, his one means of communication linking him to the outside world as he is trapped on the "shores of loneliness."


Through visits paid Jean-Do by various persons, we are given glimpses into the life that was his existence prior to the stroke - the scene in which he sees Céline, the mother of his children, is gut-wrenching for both parties involved, proving one of the more beautiful moments in a film packed with them. Jean-Do revelled in all that life had to offer - driving fast cars, dating beautiful women, and acting as a creative force in the fashion industry. He led a life many would envy, only to have it stripped away from him in the blink of an eye. His memories, coupled with his capacity to imagine, are all he has at this juncture in his life, and he must use them to retain his humanity.

Jean-Do's speech therapist constructs a tablet containing the letters of the French alphabet in order of declining frequency, instructing her immobile patient to blink for the appropriate letter as she reads them off. After an initial despondency, Jean-Do takes to the system, eventually using it to fulfill a deal with a publishing agency. He mentally wrote and re-wrote his novel, editing his own work - giving dictation to the lovely Claude Mendibil, a angel of sorts sent to his side by the publishing agency. The non-physical love that manifests between the two is beautiful to behold - it is purely an emotional connection between two human souls, where sexual interaction can in no way be factored into the equation.


To prevent giving away the film's ending, I'll just say that it is dealt with in a very delicate manner - justice is done to Jean-Do and to all those who aided him in his undoubted frustration with the card that had been dealt him.

It should also be noted that in addition to compelling performances and a taut script, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly is an impressive technical achievement. The cinematography of the film is breathtaking, simultaneously throwing you off balance while engaging you completely. We are allowed to see the world as Jean-Do sees it in large part due to the cinematographic decisions made. Likewise, what can be said about this film that ultimately does not reference the film's auteur, Julian Schnabel? His dedication to his vision is evident in the execution of every moment of The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, from the personal touches to sets, to the intimacy engendered between characters, to the overall aura exuded by the film. It will no doubt rank among his greatest works.

Simply put, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly is a beautifully made piece of art. It is a reaffirmation of the value of human life, and a reminder that we all must make the best of what we have. Life is too precious to spend fretting your own existence . . . instead, go out and make the most of it. Live your live.

Thank you, Jean-Do.

Monday Night Double Feature

HBO is a wonderful thing. Cinematic fare of all kinds is at your disposal, and this need be no further evidenced than my double feature earlier tonight. Exhausted from a long day of teachers droning and tests mocking my sleeplessness, I came to the realization that I was experiencing a less-than-usual workload. Thus, I approached my evening with one sentiment in mind: to unwind with a good film or two. It just so happened that I was to come across two distinct pieces of film-making - "The Last Supper," a mid-nineties dark comedy, and "Brokeback Mountain," a film that I had never before seen,yet been aware of due to the great deal of publicity it experienced some years back.

The premise behind "The Last Supper" was what had initially intrigued me: a band of five graduate students holds a Sunday dinner every week, inviting a different inidividual to accompany them at each gathering. The group subsequently engages each individual on societal issues: abortion, homosexuality, the environment, anti-semitism, and so forth. Based upon the results extracted from each guest, a decision is made with respect to the wine to be served - those individuals deemed ignorant, and thus threats to the well-being of society, were served merlot laced with arsenic. Using this methodology, the group systematically disposes of various persons, believeing that in so doing they are aiding mankind in its struggle for a better tomorrow. Matters quickly begin to unravel as the group loses sense of its moral compass - a woman is, for instance, poisoned because she does not like "The Catcher in the Rye."

To save you from any further rehashing of the plot, I'll boil the matter down to a finite sentiment: although the idea driving "The Last Supper" forward appears enough to quench the thirst of curious film-viewers (pun intended), the movie is erradic and fails to make sense of its characters. There is simply no logic behind the motives of this core group, the actions taken by the five twenty-somethings appearing at times unfounded and cringe-worthy. Although the premise did initially draw me to this film, I must say that by midway I was left with an unyielding sense of confusion, irritation, and unsatisfaction. The moral-laden terminus of the film was also a bit too much to stomach (once again, pun intended).


I now turn my attention to a film of a completely different nature - "Brokeback Mountain." Make whatever jokes you will about this film, it is undoubtedly one of the finest this decade has seen. I'm not quite sure why exactly I decided to view this film - perhaps it was the publicity I had recalled engulfing "Brokeback," the mass of hysteria permeating the media-curcuits upon its release. In any case, I had never gotten around to viewing it, but upon seeing its slot in the HBO lineup I felt I owed the film (and the late Heath Ledger) at least one uniterrupted viewing. I was astounded to say the least.

The film is a miasma of beautiful cinematography, delicate performances, a loving script, and the unique vision of director Ang Lee. I'm not sure what it is that I was expecting to leave "Brokeback" with, but it certainly is far more than I could have anticipated - so rich was the execution of this film that I had to stand back for a moment and let everything I had experienced settle.

Upon seeing Ledger's performance, I now fully understand what his loss has meant to the movie industry and to the world at large: his gift for realizing characters will be sorely, sorely missed. His gripping portrayl of Ennis del Mar, a man unable to face the reality of his relationship with the vulnerable, starry-eyed Jack Twist (played with indellible charisma and honesty by Jake Gyllenhaal) is the core of this moving film - a love that cannot be realized because circumstances do not permit. Michelle Williams is perhaps the most heart-wrenching of the entire ensemble, playing the role of Ennis' repressed wife, Alma. Williams' scenes with Ledger are among the film's most memorable moments - awkward movements and glazed eyes conveying more than either character can put into words.

I'll not spoil the end of this film, because it is far too powerful for my brief synopses. Needless to say, much fuss was made over the unconventional love-story the film depicts, but upon viewing "Brokeback Mountain" for yourself, I guarantee that you will see love is formless. This film should simply be viewed with such a mindset: as a great piece of cinema, and one of the great romances of our time.

Indeed, it does appear that my evening away from schoolwork and the semantics that have become my life was just what I needed - grounding me in what truly is of importance: love. Oh, and arsenic . . . can't forget about arsenic.